


It Will Have Blood

by kayura_sanada



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin is a Self-Sacrificing Idiot, Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Torture, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Arthur, Merlin, and the knights are ambushed by magical creatures. Creatures faster and stronger than them. Then these creatures take Arthur and Merlin to a band of sorcerers.





	

Blindfolded.

It was the first thing Merlin noticed when coming to, even before the pain and the headache and the general nauseous feeling of having been smacked around like a sack of potatoes for daring to try to defend Arthur.

Arthur.

It was the first thing he thought of, the first thing in his head, that huge, gaping lack of Arthur's presence beside him, before wondering where he was or who had grabbed him or how long it would take them to get the hell out of the mess they'd managed to land themselves in this time.

It was when he tried to wrench forward, tried to move, that he realized he was hanging suspended by his wrists, his toes barely scraping the floor, his wrists in agony from holding up his weight. “Arthur,” he called out, half-surprised he hadn't been gagged, as well, and strained to hear any sort of noise. A grunt, a shift of clothing, the clanking of chains past the ones that clanked whenever Merlin so much as breathed. Nothing. He couldn't hear anything.

He yanked stupidly on his bindings and wondered if he dared loose his magic. But what could he aim it at? If there was a lock, he certainly couldn't find it, hanging uselessly with his eyes covered by – was that his own neckerchief? Bastards, whoever they'd been.

What _had_ they been?

Tall, he remembered. Crazy pale, so much so that, in the moonlight, their skin had looked almost silver. But the thing that really stood out, more than anything else, was how, when Merlin had pretended to hunker down from the fight and had shot out his magic, trying to push them down, one of the people-creatures had flicked it away and _laughed_. And before Merlin could counter with something sharper, stronger, something had curled around him and choked him, pushed him down to the ground until he was kissing dirt. He'd heard Gwaine shout, heard Percival grunt as if something large had just punched him in the stomach. Heard Arthur make one sharp, brutal sound of pain.

It had been enough for him to let loose with his magic, stupidly, without knowing what would happen, and the choking had turned to a twisting pain in his gut that had made him cough up blood.

That had been when something had grabbed his face and shoved it down, hard enough for Merlin to wonder if his nose had been broken. That something had thin, hard fingers curled around his neck, and there seemed to be sharp nails on the end. And when Merlin tried to struggle, it had clenched those fingers so hard the nails had drawn more blood and a raging headache piled behind Merlin's eyes. That had been around the time he'd passed out.

He didn't know what had happened to Arthur, and the very knowledge of his ignorance had him straining against the chains again. He wanted to make a sweep with his magic, but he didn't know what had happened when he'd let it burst that last time, and he didn't know if maybe the others – Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan – were in the room. Without being able to pinpoint his magic visually, he could end up hitting them with it. Which would be unacceptable.

Hanging from the ceiling made it rather difficult to tell where he was or what situation he was in. He still felt a dull throbbing in his temple, still tasted a bit of blood on his tongue. He thought the area had to be semi-open, since his efforts to swing back and forth garnered him nothing more than an insistent pain in his wrists and the feeling of cool, empty air on his bare arms and flailing body.

Which left so many options as to his whereabouts as to make him slightly sick.

Was it a cave? A building? A tunnel? Who was with him? Was anyone? Had those creatures grabbed him and run off, leaving everyone else dead, because he had magic and they didn't? His imagination whirled in very ugly, unproductive paths as he struggled to hear anything. Nothing. No wind, so if he was in a cave or a tunnel, he was deep enough that the wind couldn't reach him. No grumbling, or shuffling, or even sounds of breathing, so he was most likely alone. Or maybe, he thought, maybe he was still in the forest where they'd all been attacked on their rounds, and he was swinging from a tree, the wind simply dead at the moment, and around him lie the corpses of his friends. Of his king.

All right, all right, don't panic, he told himself as he... panicked. Maybe Arthur was all right. Maybe... maybe...

“Arthur,” he called again, because he couldn't do anything else without risking injury to himself or others, and the inability to see, to _know_ , nearly made him choke all over again.

He took several deep breaths – he thought he smelled something old, moldy maybe, or rotten so far past rotten that it was starting to form new life – and forced himself to concentrate. It wasn't as if he knew pretty much anything about magical creatures, but what were the chances that those things had been human?

He nearly laughed the thought straight out of his own head.

Pale. Magical. _Fast_ , if one of the ones from the front had grabbed him and shoved him down. Traveled in fairly large groups, if not. He separated the two, then decided to just drop the speed one. There had been four of them to begin with. A fifth wouldn't alter the fact that they traveled in groups.

So. Pale, magical, traveled in groups. Picked fights with a small entourage of knights. Could hurt Arthur and his best men. (That thought brought the panic back despite his best efforts.) Could stop Merlin's magic. Maybe, potentially had claws? He scowled. Maybe it was a shapeshifter, or something like a tall, paler version of a goblin. As if he had any idea. He was wasting time when he should be trying to escape.

He heard a horrible creaking sound then, followed by a familiar snarl and the sound of clothing, of shifting feet, and then, “Merlin!”

Merlin lifted his head, tilted it. “Arthur?” he asked, even though he knew damn well it was; no one else had that voice. He heard more than one set of footsteps and tensed. Arthur's voice didn't sound like it did when he was on the warpath, or when he was trying to think of some sort of strategy. It sounded more like he was ready to bite someone's head off, but was constrained by the leash that was princely conduct. Like he wanted to do something very badly but couldn't.

“Cooperate,” Merlin heard, the voice little more than a sibilant hiss, and Merlin's back went ramrod straight in an instant. It actually helped his footing.

“Whatever it is, Arthur, don't you dare,” he said. His hands clenched into fists. If only he could see where these creatures _were_ , or where Arthur was, at least, he could try to do something.

He heard something swish, then a long, tapered mess of fingers grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. The loss of equilibrium made his feet slip until he was swinging slightly, and the hand pulled him forward, into a hard brick of a wall – a cold wall, one that breathed deeply for a second before tilting Merlin's head to the side and leaning down, and suddenly there was pain in his neck, excruciating pain as little blades sank into his skin, and he screamed. And then the thing in front of him _sucked_.

 _Oh,_ he thought, a little giddy as his blood bubbled up and into that wet, impatient mouth, _vampires_. Well, now he knew what they were.

He heard more grunting from somewhere to his front right – he thought Arthur might be over there. Were they feeding on him, too? Merlin struggled, even though the hand clamping his head in place was strong and unyielding, like a rock, and the body curled over him – tall, he stupidly remembered from his list – was immovable. “Don't...” he said, and he thought the teeth still embedded in him might have dug a little deeper, and he couldn't help the cry that passed his lips – “don't touch him. T-Take it from me.”

There were more hisses than Merlin had anticipated. Even the one on his throat at that moment hissed, the breath cold enough to raise the gooseflesh on Merlin's arms. “Merlin, _shut up!”_ Arthur said, and it was nearly a hiss to match the vampires.

Merlin didn't think he was going to have trouble with the shutting up bit. The world was starting to turn a little glassy. He slumped into the vampire's hold.

“Enough!” Arthur said. Through the haze of black and white that popped across his empty vision, he thought he should be wincing at the roar in Arthur's voice. The thing on his neck finally pulled its teeth out. It licked lazily a few more times, kissing up the drops lingering on his skin. Then it finally let him go, and Merlin hung limply from his chains. He was suddenly glad for them, and the blindfold, because even with them both, the world spun alarmingly.

“Come,” one of the vampires said, its voice scratchy. He heard footsteps, more rustles of clothing. He heard a metal door creak open. Heard it shut.

Then he felt that hand come back, this time petting his neck gently. “Protecting his little warlock,” a vampire said, its voice suddenly smooth as silk. He shuddered. He instinctively knew it was the one who had fed on him. “Do not worry. We cannot feed on him. And if he cooperates, we'll only feed on you a little bit.” The vampire's voice, however, said that 'little bit' would be the extent of the restraint they would be willing to exercise.

He wondered how much 'a little bit' would be.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want from him? What happened to the others?”

That petting paused for a moment, and Merlin felt one claw dig into his new wound. He bit his lip to keep from wincing. “You ask many questions, when perhaps you should ask but one.”

Merlin's breath stilled as he struggled against his imagination. Nonetheless, he pulled his magic forward, now that he was fairly positive he was alone with the vampire. But with Arthur surrounded, any act of violence might instigate something worse. And so he hesitated. “And what would that one question be?”

The petting resumed, this time right over the wound. Merlin shivered again. “How do you stop us?”

* * *

Arthur knew about Merlin's magic.

Or, well, he thought he did, because there were signs, and hints, and Arthur wasn't nearly as clueless as Merlin said he was. Although he had to admit to being skeptical for a long time, then in outright denial, because if anyone should be tagged with a warning label to keep away from dangerous objects, it was clumsy Merlin. But then he'd caught it. That bright shine of gold, as a bandit who'd been aiming a crossbow at Arthur's head had found the branch of the tree he'd stood on suddenly unable to support his weight.

It had been a revelation. It had been a revolution. It had brought anger, fear, distrust, fury. It had brought many nights of lying awake, tossing and turning, wondering what he should do, who he should tell, how he should react. Arthur had voiced his doubts on magic before, and Merlin had said magic had no place in Camelot, and Arthur had listened to him, every single time.

Why had Merlin lied? Why had he kept such a secret to himself? How? The final one had taken some fixing, as it had literally come to him solely because he'd believed he'd known Merlin, understood him.

It had taken him a long, long time to realize he _had_ known Merlin, in all the ways that mattered, save that Merlin wasn't nearly as stupid as Arthur had assumed. And it had taken him even longer to realize that Merlin hadn't told him because Arthur had needed to learn for himself, both of magic and of what he planned to do about it.

And even now, he still had to learn about patience, and waiting until the time was right, to explain that he knew, and that he finally understood.

It hadn't been the right time yet again when Arthur had needed to make his rounds through the nearby towns bordering Camelot, as people whispered darkly of moving shadows and creatures of the night invading their towns and preying upon their families. After two days of nothing, Arthur and his men had apparently hit the jackpot.

Of course, that would be where things turned to hell.

First, and perhaps least surprising, Arthur and his men hadn't been able to do more than swing at air when the creatures had come at them. Though there had only been four, Arthur had quickly gleaned that they had the strength of three, perhaps even five men, and the speed of a sudden wind. And then he'd seen the impossible – Merlin. Defeated.

When he'd learned of Merlin's magic, it had made everything so much clearer. The fact that Merlin always managed to come out of a battle without a scrape – _most_ of the time. How Arthur would get through impossible odds without more than a wound or two, or a severely addled memory. And somehow, over time, the idea of them making a good team, or of them working well together, metamorphosed into that ever-dangerous _invincible_ – not that Arthur had ever thought himself invincible, but that he'd thought of Merlin that way.

And then Merlin had been on the ground, pushed down by one of those pale-skinned abominations, and he'd realized that sorcerers were no more immortal than anyone else, that Merlin was just as fallible, just as breakable – how had he thought Merlin undefeatable on a battlefield when he hardly expected the man to walk up the stairs without tripping? And as he'd moved to save Merlin, Gwaine had moved to protect him, and Percival _him_ – and somehow it all fell apart, those creatures jumping from one of his men to the other, and Arthur in an attempt to route his men into another rally found himself taken down by those cold, thin hands.

The creatures had been like a rushing tide, a waterfall, fast and violent and unstoppable.

And then he'd been taken, himself and a horribly unconscious Merlin, his men left for dead on the forest floor, those cold fingers like metal bands around his wrists. Forced into an underground cave, cold and wet, stalagmites pushing up from the floor, reaching for the slowly dripping water above them, into a chiseled part of the tunnel's frame that housed thick metal doors. And then he and Merlin had been separated.

While he'd demanded to know where they were taking him and what they wanted with his manservant (his _magical_ manservant), he'd been ushered into a giant room, obviously dug out, if the crumbling ceiling and wooden beams sparsed throughout the room were any indication – which housed what he'd first thought to be the rest of the creatures' brethren. When he'd been brought further inside, closer to those standing near the torches lining the opposite edge of the room, he'd found their skin to be much darker, less like silver and more like sunlight, and he realized they were _humans_ . And they weren't trapped or forced to remain with the monsters – if anything, the abominations shrank back slightly as they neared. _Sorcerers_ , Arthur thought, and knew without doubt he was correct. The creatures let go of him and backed away, moving to defend the entrance to the room.

The torches actually gave some sort of decorum to the place, and Arthur could see a sort of elegance in the large room. Chairs sat along the wall, made to resemble thrones. Beds took up the far left corner, and a small dining area took up the right. Like a home. Arthur wondered how long the sorcerers had camped out in the cave, in his land. Had it just been to wait for him? Or had they been here longer?

The humans took the seats before him, as if they were the kings – and queens, two of them – and he a peasant entreating them, or a criminal brought to justice. It nearly made him laugh, just as it nearly made him snarl.

But he didn't. He didn't say a word as the sorcerers outlined their demands – estates, titles, freedoms. He didn't bother telling them he held no hatred for magic, not anymore, nor that he allowed more freedoms sometimes to the one known sorcerer at his side than any noble in his court. He simply said, when they asked him if he would cooperate, “no.”

The sorcerers looked to one another. Smiled grimly, as if they'd known it would come to this. Perhaps they had. What fool thought a king would simply bow to the demands of the first people to grab him?

“Make him,” one of the sorcerers said, waving to the creatures in the back of the room. Something on his finger – a ring, a thick, large silver one – glowed for an instant, and despite a sudden riot of hissing and snapping, three of the monsters came to him. “And leave him alive and well enough to answer our demands,” the man added. More hisses. As if the creatures hadn't remotely intended to do just that. Were these creatures enslaved? How? By a _magic ring?_

The resulting trip through more of the cave showed those sorcerers – or at least _someone_ – to have done more than simply carve out a single wall and stick furniture inside. Some inner halls actually had doors drilled into the seams, and a few of them were open enough to reveal a few people, chained to a wall, sewing or mending shoes, and Arthur realized in horror that these were _his_ people, trapped in this place, forced to cater to and perform for these sorcerers. For an instant, he found himself thinking like his father – like Uther. All magic was evil. All those who practiced magic were cruel, spineless.

Then he was stopped before another room, another door, and when this one was opened, he saw Merlin. Merlin, loyal, foolish sorcerer Merlin, dangling from the ceiling by his hands, a blindfold – _his own neckerchief_ – over his eyes.

He'd breathed Merlin's name without thought. The creatures around him shifted ever so slightly, and Arthur realized it had been a test, and he'd failed. His spine stiffened as Merlin called his name, too, sounding so damn glad to hear Arthur's voice it made Arthur want to scream. _Now they know we're close_. So stupid of him!

One clawed hand rested on his shoulder, and one of those wrinkled creatures leaned in close. “Cooperate,” it hissed, and he stiffened still more, his muscles locking in place. No. They couldn't.

The one that hissed to him stepped forward, one of the other three flanking him. Arthur made to move forward and hands clamped his shoulders, keeping him in place. Another fault, yet he couldn't help it. The creature was looking Merlin up and down, and something about his stance seemed hungry.

And then Merlin, the fool, spoke. “Whatever it is, Arthur, don't you dare.”

The self-sacrificing idiot! Arthur didn't blink, but then the creature was suddenly in front of Merlin, pulling his hair back and leaning – _biting_. Arthur gasped. The creature sank its unnatural fangs into Merlin's neck, and Merlin _screamed_. Arthur wrenched forward without conscious thought. The creatures held him back as the thing _feasted_ on Merlin, sucking wetly as Merlin's blood stained the thing's lips. It closed its eyes as if tasting something particularly succulent, and Arthur shivered as its body _changed_. No longer old, or pale, but nearly handsome. Like it was sucking the very life out of Merlin. He fought with everything he had to loosen the grip on his arms, but the creatures merely held him tighter, until their claws dug little holes in his clothes and pricked red dots in his skin. It created an immediate change, as the creatures' eyes fell to those little beads. They shoved him to his knees, as if they couldn't stand to be near him anymore. Their grips, however, did not loosen. And then, as if Merlin could see despite the damn blindfold, the fool said, “don't – don't touch him.” And though the idiot's lips shook, he said, “take it from me.”

And they did. Arthur begged for the fool to just shut up, but it was too late. The thing bent over Merlin further, making him look like a child, too small, too thin, too _pale_. And Merlin sagged in that creature's hold as if – _no_. Arthur surged forward again. “Enough!” he said, putting all the authority of his position behind it.

He hadn't expected it to work, but the thing finally pulled away. And when it did, its skin glowed softly, nearly tanned. Its eyes were bright. It licked Merlin's neck once, twice, cleaning away the last of Merlin's blood. When it released the thin, pale man, he swung limply on his chain. Arthur watched Merlin until he finally saw the small rise and fall of that thin rib cage.

Then the creatures were tugging him up, dragging him out, and he thought he could hear Merlin's shallow breathing, like he was sucking air through a reed. He pulled against their hold. “Come,” one of them said, its tone a clear warning that any further battle would be met with more torture – for Merlin, he thought, not for him. He wanted to scream, to shout, to rage. He wanted his sword. He wanted to cut through these creatures until they were in pieces. But he went, because Merlin didn't look like he could afford to lose any more blood.

The leader, the one with the changed appearance and sunny skin, stayed behind, and Arthur, pulled once more down the halls, shouted out threats, empty threats, until finally he realized he was doing neither himself nor Merlin any good. He forced himself calm, even though he wanted to return, to see if Merlin was well, if he could survive such an attack. Had the creature injected something in him? Poisoned him? Who knew what they had on their fangs, in their spit. He wondered if Merlin would perhaps be drained dry as he was walked back, and the need to fight once again surged through him. “I swear to you,” he said. “If I find that any permanent harm has come to him, my sympathy for your plight will disappear.”

The creatures actually hesitated for a moment. So he'd been right. They were prisoners of those sorcerers. That didn't mean they weren't still evil creatures, but perhaps they hadn't... no, they had several other ways to make him talk. But, yes, harming his manservant had certainly proven to be the most expedient course of action. He wondered if that was all it was. That one, the one who had drunk from Merlin, had seemed far too happy with Merlin's taste considering the number of people in cages that undoubtedly doubled as meals.

If Merlin was a rare commodity, then what was there to stop the creatures from simply sucking his blood until there was nothing more to take? Whatever orders the sorcerers had given, they had yet to display any kind of concern for Arthur's manservant. The creatures were under no orders to make sure he was alive and fit, as the orders had been for Arthur. Which meant Arthur was already running out of time if he wanted to save Merlin.

It all boiled down to the rings, he thought. If he could wrest the sorcerers' control of the creatures from them...

But that would mean leaving them uncontrolled, rampant, directionless. They might attack anyone and anything they found. The people trapped in those cages might be drained dry. Merlin. Arthur. They may flee the caves and wreak havoc on his people. And if he tried to take control of them, only to find one needed magic to do so? They would turn on him for trying.

So, no. Perhaps not the rings.

But what else? Wait for a possible rescue? Try to get to Merlin and hope he managed to defeat them this time? And if he didn't? What would they do to him then?

He sucked in a deep breath. There had to be some way to defeat the sorcerers without losing control of the creatures or getting Merlin killed. He was king; surely he could think of some way to get such a thing accomplished. He'd accomplished more with less, hadn't he?

But, he thought, dread lacing the pit of his stomach, he'd always managed because Merlin had been by his side.

* * *

 Merlin didn't know how long the vampire just stayed there in the cell with him, even though everyone else – Arthur included – had been gone for quite a while. He could feel its presence, like a weight on the side of the room, its steady gaze caught on his face. He wondered just what it was looking at.

The burn on his neck wasn't going away, and he wondered if there was a giant bruise where the thing had fed on him. It certainly felt like there was. What did it want? What was it waiting for? It hadn't said a word since it had told him he needed to change his questions from 'what was happening' and 'what did they want' to 'how do I stop it.' Honestly, he didn't even know. What he knew about vampires could fill less than a paragraph. Bloodsuckers, with abilities greater than the average human's. All of that he would have known by now, anyway. The speed from before. The taut, iron-like strength in the creature as it held him still. And the bloodsucking – couldn't forget the bloodsucking.

At least, he thought stupidly, the vampire had only drunk from him. As far as he knew. With his vision robbed from him by his own neckerchief, he couldn't be positive the other vampires hadn't just fed on Arthur before visiting him, or perhaps had just carted him off and taken him afterword.

It made Merlin antsy. Fidgety. He needed to act quickly. He couldn't trust the 'couldn't' that the vampire had promised. He couldn't believe that Arthur was safe. Not until he saw it with his own eyes.

Once again, he pulled his magic forward. It felt odd, like it was bleeding from his slowly closing wound, but it was there. If only he could know where Arthur was, or what was happening. If he lashed out, what would that do? Harm the vampire? Only maybe. It might just anger the thing. And if he managed to somehow defeat it and get loose? There were at least three others waiting for him, potentially all guarding Arthur. He would have to use his magic to stand a chance, and they all moved quickly enough that he might not be able to use it at all before they defeated him all over again. And if they didn't? If he managed to use his magic, only to have Arthur find out?

But if Arthur was being hurt, wasn't that far more important than keeping his secret?

But until he knew... until he knew, he might be giving himself away for nothing. He squeezed his hands into fists, useless as it was with them tied above his head. He needed to see Arthur. He needed to know he was all right.

The vampire finally moved; it breathed in deep and sighed. “Well. I thought you might need to wait longer, but it appears you don't.”

Merlin stiffened. “What?” he asked. His voice cracked. He only realized then how dry his mouth was.

“Ah. We'll take care of that soon,” the vampire cooed. It came close to his ear. This time when it breathed in, he could feel the chill against his skin. Was it... smelling him? It gusted out a breath. The air tickled over his neck. “We don't want you weakening.” It petted his hair from his face. Merlin flinched away, but the thing just grabbed his hair and yanked his head to the side. Exposing his throat. “You're our ticket out of here.” And it crushed its teeth over his neck once more.

Merlin cried out; the pain was no less than it had been before; like two small daggers had been stabbed into his artery. He could feel his own blood gushing out, leaving him weak almost immediately; but then he felt something more leaving him – his magic. Like being pulled from a sieve, he felt it being drawn out with his blood. He arched his back, leaving him swinging slightly on the chains around his hands, and quickly fell limp. The vampire made a frustrated noise. “Just a little more,” it said, but it pulled away. Its voice was, if it was possible, even smoother than it had been a moment ago. Merlin concentrated on breathing. His limp toes scraped against the ground.

The vampire took its time licking away the last droplets of his blood. Merlin's magic circled inside of him, pulling away from the wound as if trying to avoid the creature. What was it doing? Sucking his magic dry? Was that possible?

He just focused on breathing for a while. The vampire did not leave his side.

The world spun, yet it darkened to a distanced point, like it was sliding away from him. His hands went numb, but Merlin didn't know if that was due to the blood loss, the loss of magic, or simply due to the weight of his body on his wrists cutting off circulation. He wondered vaguely if he should stand up. He tried to find the energy to do so, only to find his toes tingling and his legs heavy. He heaved another breath and shuddered as the cold of the cave sank deeper into his skin. He thought he could hear, as if from far away, someone moaning. Then, a small moment later, the sound of feet on the ground. Merlin's head trembled as he struggled to pull it up and listen harder. Footsteps, though none scuffled. No voices. But the moaning got a little louder, and seemed to start a few others. Then there was noise, as Arthur's voice rang out. “Leave that man alone!”

“Silence,” a vampire hissed, its voice cracked and throaty like the sound the vampire in his room had once made.

Of course, trying to order Arthur to do – or not do – anything was an exercise in futility. He snapped an automatic, “do not order me about!” as if he were actually sitting on his throne. If Merlin's world hadn't fallen to such a tiny pinpoint of existence, he might have been able to muster up the energy to laugh.

He was almost surprised when Arthur was actually led back into his room; he heard the door hinges squeal slightly, and then Arthur's voice, even closer now. “What have you done? He's paler than before!”

Surely he didn't look that bad?

All Arthur got for his trouble was a loud hiss, and Merlin heard a hard sound, and then Arthur's erratic steps as he attempted to keep his balance. Merlin didn't hear him fall. “You!” Arthur said, and the door whined shut, clanging loudly as some lock was levered over their exit. Trapped. Arthur was trapped inside with him. And the others? Were the other knights somewhere in this place with them? What was going on? “You drank from him again! I'll see you dead for this. I ordered you to stop!”

“If you haven't noticed, human,” the silky-voiced vampire said, and Merlin's world twirled again. He thought he might vomit, “we don't take kindly to orders.”

 _Arthur_. Stop angering the vicious supernatural creatures.

That pinpoint of a world eons away finally disappeared from his sight completely.

* * *

 Arthur turned to Merlin. It looked like he'd fallen unconscious entirely. And no wonder, with this monster sucking even more from him the minute Arthur's back was turned!

He supposed he should be grateful that the sorcerers in the other room fell for his act. It could have all been much worse. When he'd returned, furious and tight-lipped, the sorcerers had looked upon him with nothing but greed – as if their victory was assured. And of course it was; the creatures they'd ensorcelled would do anything and everything they commanded, without exception. And so, when Arthur had gritted out that he would assist them, they'd been only slightly suspicious. They'd told their minions to take him to a cell and 'ensure his compliance.' But of course, the creatures would find a way around their orders if they could. He hadn't been even slightly surprised to see that he'd been taken to the cell containing Merlin. He'd hoped it might mean their escape.

But of course, that wasn't likely now. Not with Merlin nearly dead where he hung.

Arthur moved to reach Merlin's side, but quicker than he could follow, two vampires grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. The younger-looking one, the one that had been drinking Merlin dry, now stood between him and his manservant. Arthur snarled. “Stand aside,” he ordered. Of course, the creatures did not do as he commanded. They merely looked down on him, taller than most humans, and stared. Arthur bristled at it. They were hurting Merlin, and even with him so close, he could do nothing to stop them. He wanted his sword. Badly.

Without any assistance, Merlin's unconscious body hung like a corpse, swaying gently as his feet failed to support him, even with the tips of his toes stuck on the cave floor. His breaths were soft at first, but as time passed they grew louder; he struggled to take in breath. Finally he hitched in a short gasp and seized up in what Arthur could only assume to be great pain; his wrists and arms must have been in a rictus of agony, his lungs obviously struggling under the strain of his own body's weight. For what must have been the thousandth time, Arthur made to move forward; and once again, without fail, he was stopped.

Merlin tensed further as he obviously remembered where he was; he lifted his head as if to look around, only to stiffen still more as he realized he was still blindfolded. Arthur's lips thinned. “I'm here. As are the creatures.” He tried to keep his voice low, soft, but still Merlin jerked as if he'd shouted. Merlin turned his head vaguely in Arthur's direction. He wished he could see the look on Merlin's face. Wished he could see the man's eyes. Was he afraid? Could he use his magic without his sight? Or would he not dare even if he could, for fear of harming Arthur?

Merlin's lips moved, as if to try to speak his name, but nothing came out. He grimaced.

“Ah, yes,” the younger vampire spoke up. Arthur and Merlin both jolted at the sudden sound of his voice. Merlin's toes scrabbled for purchase on the floor. “He's thirsty. One of you get him a drink.”

One of the vampires tilted its head and knocked on the metal of the door. It spoke a few words to the fourth vampire, who waited outside, and then returned to grab him up again. The action took only a handful of seconds, thwarting Arthur's half-baked plan to revolt. If only he could get close enough to Merlin for them to plan some sort of assault. Why bring Arthur into this room if not to allow him the chance to escape? What was the point?

Merlin licked his lips. They were slightly chapped; evidence of his dehydration. Arthur was thirsty, as well, but it was not enough to debilitate him. He could only assume Merlin was worse off because, one, he was weaker than Arthur (physically, though certainly not magically), and two, because he'd had a lot of his body's liquid sucked from him. Arthur scowled at the thought.

“Arthur,” Merlin tried again, this time in a whisper. As if that would somehow slip past the monsters' notice. Arthur sighed.

“We have the night to wait,” Arthur said, trying to give Merlin some sort of information. Trapped in place, unable to see anything... how lost did Merlin feel right then? The creatures hissed as he spoke, and while Arthur could note their lack of battle tension, Merlin couldn't. He straightened on the tips of his toes and reared his head back. Like he was going to attack. “It's fine. They're just throwing a fit.”

Merlin scoffed slightly at Arthur's nonchalant attitude, but in reality, he thought he was starting to understand the situation. The creatures wouldn't get in the way, so long as he didn't get in _their_ way. They wanted Merlin, for whatever reason. (Watch it be the magic. Everything was always about the magic.) But for once, instead of saying anything, Merlin merely cocked his head again and listened. Arthur doubted the creatures would let him tell Merlin where they were in relation to him, or let him do more than order Merlin to attack (if Merlin even could; he trembled all over in strain). And if he couldn't attack? Arthur had no sword, no shield. The monsters around him were too fast, too powerful, for him to be able to take down with fists alone. That left only Merlin.

In that case, he thought wryly, they were doomed.

“These creatures seem to be caught in these sorcerers' spell,” he said. And he was right – so long as it wasn't information about them, specifically, they didn't seem interested in stopping Arthur. He doubted they cared even remotely for the safety of their masters.

Merlin cocked his head a bit more. It nearly threw him off balance. “Sorcerers?”

“Yes. Four of them, two men and two women. They've all made a sort of home here in this cave.” He wondered if Merlin had even known they were in a cave. How horrifying – to be victim to what these creatures were doing and not even know where he was. “We aren't the only other humans here, either. The missing villagers are still here, and mostly alive. They've been... tended to. Like you.”

Merlin stiffened slightly. The younger vampire shifted.

“We need to feed. Usually we sip once, in a person's dreams, and leave before they wake.”

Arthur wanted to yell at the thing that humans were not drinks to be _sipped_. But they were alone in enemy territory, and the creatures were giving them the chance to converse. He needed any small bit of providence he could get. “The sorcerers want land and titles,” Arthur said, snorting. The vampires hissed again, but it sounded different this time. He thought they might have been laughing, as well. “All this for material possessions.”

“You declined,” Merlin said, his voice firmer than a statement needed. Like he was saying, _you better have_.

“No. I agreed.”

Merlin went into a wordless rage. It would have been much funnier to watch if he didn't lose his balance and swing once more on his wrists. His body seized at the pain of it. Arthur moved to help him, but he was not the first to reach Merlin. The younger creature did, and when his hands touched Merlin's waist and chest, Merlin flinched. Arthur moved again, this time to intercept. And once more, the other monsters held him back. “Don't touch him,” Arthur hissed. The damn thing ignored him as if he hadn't spoken a word. Instead it leaned close, and Arthur saw its lips move – saying something to Merlin, then. A threat? A promise? Either way, when the monster finally released Merlin, he trembled on his toes, but didn't move or say a word.

“I lied, Merlin,” Arthur said. His voice shook slightly at the admission of dishonor. He cleared his throat. “I lied. They couldn't get any of what they wanted without me. They would have to have me return to Camelot. Likely they would leave you here, but I won't let that happen.” He glared hotly at the creatures. “So we have the night to figure a way out of this mess.”

“Oh, is that all? Well, then, that's so much better.”

Arthur's lips twitched. Whatever the creature had said to him, it hadn't broken him. Good. “Don't mock your king, Merlin.”

“Of course, Your Holy Highness.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, even though Merlin couldn't see him do it. At least Merlin's lips twitched up into a tired smile. He was trying. He was still with Arthur. He hadn't been defeated yet.

The fourth creature returned with a goblet of water, and the younger one took it from the wrinkled hand once it passed through the bars. He went to Merlin, and even though Arthur snarled at him, the creature grabbed Merlin's hair and yanked it back. Merlin cried out, his entire body trembling as it was pulled taut. The thing poured some of the water into Merlin's mouth as he shouted, making him choke. The monsters holding Arthur down hissed, laughing once more. He roared, yanking and tugging against their hold. Merlin coughed and wheezed and ended up falling once more against the young creature's chest. When he finally got his breath back, the monster poured the water into his mouth once more. This time Merlin managed to swallow it. The demon forced him to drink once more, steadily, ignoring Merlin's shuddering body as it struggled for air, until the cup was empty. Then it let Merlin go. Merlin gulped in air and tried desperately to get his body once more under some sort of balance. By the time he managed it, his entire body shook as if tearing apart. There was nothing Arthur could do for him. Nothing he could offer.

Arthur started talking. He spoke of the sorcerers. He told Merlin what they looked like – both of the men tall, one slightly chubbier than the other, balding, clearly older and potentially the leader. The other, younger, dark hair, small eyes. The women, one blond, hair shorn short, the other with her hair covered, shorter than the rest by far. He described the cave, the large space the sorcerers kept for themselves and the long line of smaller rooms with people caged like animals. He even described some of the people – their listless looks, the horrible way they screamed in sympathetic terror when one was set upon, as had happened earlier. The creatures never tried to stop him. And Merlin seemed to hang on to Arthur's every word, as if taking comfort in his voice. Those knobby legs trembled as they struggled to hold him up. By now, they had to be straining, not just under his weight but under the pain of having to keep them on the ground. His arms were white from poor blood circulation, all but for the red skin around the chains. The abrasions there would be deep and might even leave scars. If he lived. If _they_ lived.

Arthur kept track of the passage of time as well as he could. He let Merlin know when about a moon's passing had gone by, and then two. Merlin's hands were so white they looked like the wings of a moth. They trembled, the tips nearly blue. Merlin was too tired to keep himself up any more. Arthur's lips pressed tight together, and he cut himself off in the middle of explaining the size of the room they were in. He had no hope of defeating these creatures, but he couldn't continue to kneel on the floor and do nothing. At this rate, Merlin would be lucky to last the night.

Of course, his silence did nothing but make Merlin worried, and the idiot jerked his head up from where it hung against his chest and choked out, “Arthur?”

“I'm fine,” he said, the words softer than they might have been if he hadn't been thinking of something else entirely. He couldn't break free of the creatures' hold. Not alone. And Merlin would never use his magic if he thought Arthur could be caught up in the attack. (Though Arthur knew very well that Merlin would use magic on him if it meant keeping him safe. He was certain the little shit had done it before.)

But there were other options. He had let his mind wander as he spoke, trying to come up with one of those other options. It would be beyond foolish to expect rescue. He had to assume his knights had no clue as to their whereabouts. (Well, that or they were dead, but he could not afford to waste away in gloomy aspects when his manservant was in danger of dying.) A distraction would be for the best, but he couldn't make any move without alerting the monsters holding him. They would know of any attempt he made. Merlin might be able to do something with his magic, but Arthur couldn't depend on that, either. Especially since he had no way of sending Merlin some sort of message. Anything he tried would go right over the idiot's head, anyway.

Frontal assaults were out. That left stealth. He was no assassin. He'd been taught that such tactics were dishonorable. But he also knew very well the worth of secrecy, when necessary. Even he could manage such a thing.

He had a dagger. It sat in his boot. Mostly because Merlin had a bad habit of getting them into situations like this one, where they were caught and bound and held prisoner in some way or another. Unfortunately, while he would normally be able to reach into his boot with little difficulty when left in an encampment or trussed up in some cavern, it was only because they were usually left alone. And this was not one of those times when they had been left alone.

Still. It was as close to an opportunity as they were likely to get. He just needed to find the right moment – or find a way to create the right moment.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Merlin might not have that time.

“Take him down from there,” he said, glaring at the demon who had been sucking what seemed almost to be Merlin's life force from him. Arthur would make sure the creature died for it, that Merlin's health was returned to him. “Listen to me! Look at him. He won't be able to hold himself up much longer. He'll suffocate.”

The creature merely shrugged. “He will survive the night.”

“Barely! If that!” But the creatures didn't seem to care. Arthur's hands, clenched into fists for the better part of the night already, curled so tightly his short nails bit into his flesh. He thought he might be bleeding. He hoped he was. Maybe it would distract the creatures, pull them to him. He could command Merlin to use his magic, and if the idiot didn't freeze in shock, then he would act, if only to save Arthur. (The gods knew the idiot put himself in such danger of discovery _all the time_.) But no. Either he didn't manage to get himself bleeding, or the creatures didn't care enough to go after him. Or – potentially more likely – the stupid orders they'd been given stopped them from going after his blood, even if they wanted it.

Merlin moaned, his head falling once more to his chest. His legs quivered, a nonstop trembling that sometimes dipped, for only a moment, and the chains cut deep into his wrists. The resulting spike of pain, or perhaps the strain on his shoulders and chest, forced him to once more find the floor beneath the balls of his feet and push tiredly back up. A third pass of the moon, and Merlin's lips pressed tightly together, nearly as white as the rest of his skin as he concentrated.

Last through the night? Merlin wasn't going to last another _hour_. This was torture.

Then the young demon moved.

Arthur almost thought, for an insane moment, that the creature was finally going to let Merlin go. Give him some slack, or release his hands, or something.

Then the creature leaned in, pulled Merlin's hair back once more, and sank his teeth back into Merlin's neck.

Arthur reared up, nearly pulling from the creatures holding him for a short second before being slammed back to the ground, knees jammed back to the floor hard enough to send flashes of pain up and down his legs. But while Arthur tugged and pulled and shouted, Merlin hung silent. Empty. He didn't even flinch from the monster's hold.

Arthur barely managed to hold back a strangled sound. He was watching that thing kill his friend.

* * *

 Distantly, Merlin could feel the vampire's teeth digging into his skin once more. He tried to protest, but all that came out was a long, high-pitched whine. His entire body seemed sucked hollow. When the vampire bent further into Merlin, as if to drag the last dregs of his blood out, Merlin let his head rest on the creature's shoulder. He didn't have the strength to raise it.

“You're going to kill him!”

Arthur. Arthur, Arthur... he knew where Arthur was. If he just... if he was careful... could he maybe...?

It didn't matter if Arthur found out about his magic. If Merlin didn't do something soon, the vampires and the sorcerers who controlled them would force Arthur into giving the very people who imprisoned him power. In his own kingdom! Merlin couldn't allow it to happen. But when he pulled his magic forward, trying to center it, it wobbled everywhere. And like a sieve, it slipped through the open wound in his neck. He choked and shuddered as the vampire licked it up greedily, as if it were somehow tangible. An actual liquid, and not just a feeling. The creature curled around him. “A little more,” it whispered, its breath against his skin. “Keep cooperating, little pigeon, and we may do more than merely let your king live. We may even help you escape.”

The thing breathed heavily for a long while. Merlin heard Arthur grunting, snarling. Cursing his attackers. He hoped Arthur wasn't doing anything to anger them. “I will,” he croaked. His magic, when he pulled for it, hardly answered his call. Instead he could feel it from a distance, simmering beneath the creature's skin, nearly boiling with power.

Finally the vampire pulled away from him, and his weight dragged down once more on the chains holding him up. He whimpered as spikes of pain lanced hot and cold through his shoulders and down his back. The red rings of fire around his wrists barely hurt anymore. Instead all he could feel was the tight feeling on his chest, like a giant boulder sat against his rib cage. He sucked in a breath and tried to find his feet. He slipped and swung lightly. Another gurgled whimper brushed past his lips.

“Let me up!” Arthur snapped. “Can't you see he can't hold himself up anymore?”

With another whining grunt, Merlin managed to get one toe on the floor. He swung some more, his other foot nearly kicking his balance out from under him. He teetered, back and forth, for what felt like hours. He sucked in a reedy breath between his teeth and finally, finally managed to get his other toe on the ground. His legs shook as he struggled to once more put his weight on them. The pain was worse than before, as the blood swelled in the tips of his feet.

“It seems he can,” the vampire said, its voice dripping amusement.

Merlin sucked in a breath. And another. He couldn't tell, but he thought his vision, if it weren't obscured, would be compromised. The world seemed to be spinning more than his precarious balance could explain. He felt like he might throw up. Or pass out. But the last time he'd passed out, he'd nearly killed himself, the weight on his chest had been so crushing. Without doubt, if he let himself fall into full unconsciousness, he would either wake up unable to breathe... or not wake up at all. He forced his legs to hold his weight. His feet _hurt_. He bit his cheek to keep from crying out.

He had to stay strong. He couldn't let Arthur put himself in danger.

There was still a chance. He – he would have to use his magic. He would have to give up everything. But if he could get Arthur isolated somehow – get whatever vampires held Arthur down away from him, even for a short instant – then he could blast them all away and shield Arthur from it. So long as he managed to get Arthur alone, and get his magic under control enough...

But at the moment, that seemed less than impossible. It still felt like he'd been drained of his magic somehow, even though he could also feel it curling solidly in his gut, as always. Always there, always a part of him. But when he pulled for it, he also felt it to his right, slightly behind him – the last place the feeding vampire's voice had originated from. Did that mean any attempt to harm that vampire would fail? Did it mean the vampire could feel when he was about to use his magic? Merlin feared what would happen if he failed. Arthur could easily become the vampires' target next. Only the rings stopped them, and Merlin didn't know enough about them to feel certain. If he failed – if he slipped up...

“Arthur?” he whispered, even though it had been meant to be louder. Even that slight noise rasped.

“I'm here,” Arthur said quickly. Merlin couldn't imagine how his king looked. The man must have been terrified. Which meant he was acting furious. “How are you?”

Merlin opened his mouth, but he didn't know if he could tell the truth without the vampires thinking he wasn't cooperating. He also didn't know how much information might send Arthur into a rage, or how little would make him angry at the secrecy. He closed his mouth. “Still alive,” he said finally, and tried to smile. He grabbed onto the chains to keep his balance a bit better.

“Are you dizzy? Does your chest hurt?”

Merlin whimpered. “I don't know,” he answered. At Arthur's disgusted noise, he said, “I don't know, Arthur. It... it all hurts.” And he twitched his arm, just a bit, so that Arthur knew what he was talking about. He didn't know if it was too much information or too little, but he could tell his answer made Arthur furious. He sighed. “Sorry.”

He heard more shuffling, and he could only guess that Arthur was fighting. Could he pinpoint where? Where Arthur ended, where the vampires began? He heaved in another breath. He... he didn't know if he could. But he tried. Arthur at least struggled for some time, and Merlin even heard a few soft grunts as he exerted himself. He kept himself ready to attack anyone the moment Arthur's grunts turned pained. He didn't know if it was because Feeding Vampire felt it and sent some sort of signal to the others or if it was because they couldn't harm Arthur, thanks to the rings, but he didn't ever have to use it. And he thought he might have an idea of where Arthur was.

The only problem was that, though Merlin knew Arthur was being held down by at least one vampire, he didn't know where any others might be. He could make a giant sweep with his magic, try to hit everything everywhere, but his magic still flickered and wobbled in his control, and he might very well hit Arthur.

So he focused on his magic, huffing and puffing for breath, his feet slipping every once in a while, choking his breath away and yanking his arms hard. He coughed dryly whenever he got his breath back from those stumbles. He thought he might be getting steadier, after a while, but he didn't think he was in full control of his muscles anymore. And Arthur was extremely quiet now, hardly moving. He must have been thinking of the time slipping away, of how quickly dawn approached. Merlin gritted his teeth. He wanted to tell Arthur to just let him go, to focus only on himself and Camelot. But even if he could make himself believe for one instant that Arthur would actually listen to him, it would undoubtedly be considered a breach of his agreement to cooperate with the vampires–

Or would it? Did the vampires even care about what the sorcerers wanted? Merlin didn't think so. They'd chuckled earlier, after all, at their masters' desires. What were the chances these creatures cared one whit about what their captors wanted?

He sucked in a breath. “Don't worry about me, Arthur.”

It had been so long since either of them had spoken that his voice, still low and tired, seemed to crash around the room.

The vampires didn't seem to react to Merlin's words, and he wondered if he could really get away with it. If he could actually tell Arthur to leave him.

But of course Arthur would have none of it. “Of course I'm going to worry about you, you idiot! I've seen corpses with more life in them than you!”

Merlin managed a small chuckle. It felt like it might rip his ribs apart. “Well, considering you've seen dead men walk the earth and had skeletons try to kill you, I find that rather reassuring.”

Arthur made some choked, garbled noise. If they had been in more relaxed settings, Arthur would have reached over and smacked the back of his head. He could almost feel it. If nothing else, he had the headache thrumming at his temples.

He heard scuffling, but nothing as bad as before. Perhaps Arthur was just trying to get comfortable, or maybe one of the vampires was shifting its stance. Maybe it was a warning? But he was fairly certain the warning would come from the one feeding off him, the unofficial leader. (Or maybe official leader? He couldn't see to be sure.) And he was almost positive the warning would include touch, and perhaps another feeding. If he could even survive such a thing.

The world shifted underneath his feet.

“Arthur?”

A short movement, as Arthur likely focused on the sound in Merlin's tone. “Yes?”

“I... I think I'm going to pass out.”

“No! Merlin!”

But the spinning world took away his hearing, then his balance, then his consciousness. His last pinprick of the world was the pain that rocketed up and down his arms and chest.

* * *

 Arthur yanked fruitlessly against the restraining arms around his shoulders, curling into his neck. “Merlin!” He expected Merlin to return to consciousness almost immediately, as his body protested the pull of the chains and he failed to pull in air. But he didn't. And as Arthur watched, he found that Merlin's body shuddered, his arms struggling to pull up enough to allow access to air, and they were _failing_. Merlin's chest did not rise.

“He's dying,” Arthur said, and sure enough, Merlin's lips were turning blue. _Bluer_. Because they'd already shown a small tinge, even when the fool had been joking with him. Trying to make him feel better about the fact that his manservant was dying right in front of him, and he merely knelt in front of him, mere meters away, doing nothing. “He's dying! You won't get anything from him if he dies!”

The young creature just stared at him, eyes glittering. Arthur wrenched forward. He nearly got one of the vampires off of him, and at the moment of weakness, he rolled his right shoulder free and punched the other vampire in the face.

A raucous hissing filled the cave. The monster he'd thrown off clutched at him hard enough to pull blood from his arm. He pulled the creature off balance and threw it over his shoulder. Its claws dug hard into his skin, scratching loose as the thing went flying. He felt the points sink and strip through his flesh, felt his blood bead up. And for a moment, everything stopped. The creatures stared at him with wide eyes. Their mouths dropped open slightly, and their teeth glinted from within. He stood tall. Merlin still did not move.

The young vampire stared openly at Arthur's arm, but he moved toward the unresponsive Merlin. Arthur's hands clenched into fists. He would never reach Merlin's side before that thing, even if he launched himself forward. And then the creature was beside Merlin, tilting his limp head back, curling his fingers around Merlin's chin and jaw. The creature turned Merlin's head away, revealing his neck. The creature's bite marks still shone brightly against that pale body. Arthur's heart hammered in his chest. Simply lacking the neckerchief made Merlin look so vulnerable. That alone would have been enough to make Arthur remember the sight in his dreams. But this – this unconscious, broken form in front of him, held almost lovingly by this abomination – this was enough to destroy him. If he lived one hundred years, he would never forget this sight.

“He will die,” he said. But he didn't move. The other vampires still stared at his arm, but they were slowly picking themselves up, as well. They curled into fighting stances as the one guarding the door opened it, ready to attack, as well.

The leader didn't so much as flinch at the suggestion of its meal ending. It merely turned its head slightly, until its lips nearly brushed Merlin's neck. Arthur's jaw clicked. “How quickly will he die if I drink from him now? If he is to die, anyway, I might as well get my meal.”

Arthur jerked forward at that, and the vampires behind him leaped. They were faster than he could follow, but he managed to duck under one. He swung blindly and managed to clip the other on the chin. Another, the one from outside, snatched his waist and yanked him off-balance. He kicked out, slamming the offender back into the rock wall. Another wrapped its arm around his neck and pulled him back, forcing his spine to bend backward. He barely kept his balance. Which was of course when one of the creatures recovered and grabbed his right arm. He snarled and twisted his body around, trying to pull the vampire off his back. The creature kept its feet, planted them, and finally kept him from moving instead of the other way around. Forced still, it took no time at all for the other monster to grab his other arm and once more start dragging him to the floor.

Merlin jerked on a cry of pain. His breath was so harsh and loud it nearly matched the shout.

“Merlin! Use your magic! Now!”

Merlin groaned. “Dunno where...” he said, his voice barely dribbling out sound. It sounded like he was choking on sand.

“Just do it! Quickly!”

Merlin whimpered. At first nothing happened, and Arthur feared Merlin had fallen unconscious again. But then a sharp wave of _something_ burst forth, covering the room. It shoved him hard against the body of one of the creatures, and they all slammed into the wall. Arthur was luckily cushioned from the blow by the creature beneath him, but he still fell to the cave floor with ringing ears and pain springing up and down his body. The creatures hissed lightly as they fell, as well.

Arthur stumbled clumsily to his feet, head pounding, body listing to one side as the cave tilted alarmingly, and hurried to Merlin's side.

The young vampire still stood beside Merlin, seemingly unruffled by the assault. Arthur froze for a half-second, wondering how to take on such an opponent. But Merlin wasn't moving again, and his chest was still, and he didn't have time to waste.

He rushed to Merlin's side. The other vampires were already starting to recover. It didn't make sense; Merlin usually took out any enemy with that sort of move. But he was weak, and tired, and dying, and maybe that meant he couldn't use his magic the way he normally would. It didn't matter at the moment. Arthur reached for the chains around Merlin's wrists, though he kept his gaze on the creature. It merely watched, one eyebrow raised, its lips twisting into a slight smile.

“You could have run, human,” the thing said. Arthur ignored it and curled the chain around his fingers. The other vampires stood as he found the trail of the knot and tugged it loose. It took some time, yet the creatures didn't try to stop him. He was certain, however, that the moment he tried to get Merlin away from them, they would attack again. Had they only attacked him to keep him from leaving? He didn't care. It didn't matter.

Merlin sagged against him the moment he managed to get him free, the chains jangling as they swung loose from Merlin's wrists, and though it took a terrifying moment, those battered lungs sucked in a breath. It hushed dryly against the air. The tiny frame shook and shuddered. Merlin did not wake, even as his body tried to shake itself apart.

Arthur carefully pulled Merlin down, into his lap, and sank to the floor. The vampires watched – the younger one seemed almost amused – but they did not move to interfere. He waited, tense, for them to respond, then turned his attention back to Merlin. His fingers were tinged blue, like his lips, and Arthur covered Merlin's hands with his own, rubbing vigorously to produce warmth. Merlin moaned once, piteously, but still did not wake.

His skin was nearly white. The marks on his neck burned bright red and brown, licked clean by the monster above them, but the points dark, stark, against that pale, pale skin. Bruises splotched the area around them, light purples and one bright red. He lowered Merlin's hands and carefully unwrapped Merlin's handkerchief from his eyes. He retied it around the man's neck, hiding that vulnerable part of him. Then he glared up at the creatures, wrapping his hands around Merlin. It was useless. There were four of them, and he'd had a hard enough time taking on the weaker three on his own. If he tried to protect Merlin and take them all on, he would fail. And likely it would not be he who suffered for it. Of course. He doubted the vampires were going to let their meal leave.

Arthur had no idea how to stop it. He needed his men to find them. He didn't think they would.

He clutched Merlin close, even as another moon's passing slipped by. And then two of the still-old, wrinkled vampires actually left the room. A short two minutes later, someone moaned feebly. The rest of the prisoners' voices quickly rose in sympathetic chorus.

Arthur jumped at it. They weren't coming for Merlin? Why not? He held Merlin close. He wouldn't argue it. If they'd come for him, he would have died. He had nothing left to lose. He still hadn't woken, and Arthur could only assume it was because he was too tired, too broken. Too weak from loss of blood. If it weren't for the shallow puffs of breath that spread against his chest, he would fear his friend was dead.

It took until the two creatures returned and the last one left for him to begin to understand. They were getting drinks from other sources because, yes, Merlin would die if they took from him, but also in order to gain what strength they could. And the fact that they returned looking the same as always – old, wrinkled, worn, gray – meant the one who had turned young had done so because he'd fed specifically on Merlin. Merlin. Who had magic. It was Merlin's magic that made the creature look younger. That made it stronger. So of course it wanted Merlin, and wouldn't let anyone take him away. Merlin was these creatures' ace in the hole. He was their power source.

And it also explained a few other things. It could, for instance, be the reason the creature had been unaffected by Merlin's magic. Either because Merlin could not affect himself with it, and the creature, by having his magic in its system, was immune, or because it simply had Merlin's power, and used it to shield itself from his attack. It meant the monster couldn't afford to leave Merlin's side. Not just because it couldn't let its food source escape, but because it would give away what had happened to the sorcerers and sorceresses holding it captive. Its countenance was so drastically altered from its original state that the thing's masters were sure to notice.

It would feed on Merlin as much as possible, and it would endeavor to not be seen. Likely the creatures would be forced to leave with Arthur in the morning, in order to be used as bodyguards. That meant it merely had until morning.

It would feed on Merlin. It would suck him dry if it had to. And it wouldn't care in the slightest.

Arthur guarded over Merlin as the night wore steadily on. His eyelids dragged down over time, and he had to resort to biting his lip to jolt himself awake. Another two moon's passings, and the dawn was nearly upon them. He could see the restlessness in the older creatures and feared the worst. They had waited nearly as long as they dared. It was only a matter of time before they came and dragged Merlin from his grasp. And when they did?

He glared murder at them all. If he could only get Merlin to wake up, to use his magic... but if the leader could remain unaffected by Merlin's attack...

Maybe, he thought, not for the first time in the late hours of the night, Merlin had only sent that blast out toward Arthur. Maybe he hadn't aimed for the one beside him. He hadn't been fully conscious, after all.

But Arthur was fairly certain Merlin's lack of consciousness meant he should have lacked such control. He should have attacked everywhere, in a large burst, not unlike other times Arthur had experienced, usually from some hidden corner or copse, the attack.

In the end, he couldn't count on Merlin's magic. The man would be lucky to wake before...

And of course, because Merlin was so very good at surprising and confounding Arthur, the man in his arms twitched, moaned, and finally jerked awake. He groaned. His eyelashes fluttered. His brows drew low as his eyes, still closed, squinted. Then they popped open. “What – I...” He tried to launch himself from Arthur's lap, the idiot. Arthur grabbed the fool and pulled him back. Merlin turned those wide blue eyes on him and blinked. “Arthur!”

And yes, it must have been nice to be able to see, for once, so Arthur gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Well, thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

Merlin just blinked up at him. Something flashed in his eyes, and he frowned for a moment. His mouth opened, then closed, as if he wanted to say something, but thought against it. The fool looked around, jumping slightly as he took in the watching monsters.

Arthur was impressed, and a bit concerned. He'd thought Merlin would have a much worse reaction to Arthur proving he knew about the idiot's magic.

Merlin's gaze traveled across their prison, then landed on the youngest monster. The one who had been feeding on him. The tension in Merlin's body then was not for his wounds, but for the creature before them. He didn't speak a word, but he didn't turn away.

“You are awake,” the creature said, and Arthur recognized that tone of voice. Arthur leaned forward on one knee and held his hand out over Merlin's chest. The vampire didn't even look at him.

Merlin gulped. It was a dry, deep sound. But then Merlin actually tried to stand.

“Merlin!” Arthur said. He reached out to grab him. The idiot's legs shook so badly he was likely to fall the instant he so much as moved.

“I'll cooperate,” Merlin said. His voice was so tired. “Don't touch him.”

The damned thing smiled.

“Don't!” he stood fully, ready to grab Merlin and pull him back, just to protect him from his own _stupidity_. The other three creatures finally moved, as quickly, if not quicker, than they had when they'd attacked his group in the forest. Each converged on him as Merlin stumbled and tumbled his way into that monster's arms. The young demon caught Merlin just as he fell, but didn't bother lifting him back to his feet. As Arthur elbowed back the first vampire and shoved away the second, the leader merely curled around Merlin's exhausted body and sank its fangs back into his neck.

“Merlin, dammit!” He ducked one of the creatures, but another grabbed his shoulder. A flash flood of pain twinged beneath the creature's hold, and he was reminded of his own minor wound. The creatures were, as well, and this time, Arthur took full advantage. He threw one of the things off of him and hurried forward.

But they reacted quickly this time. Perhaps because they didn't want Arthur in the way. Perhaps because they'd fed. Either way, they moved faster than he could hope to match, and almost as one, they grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. They slammed his face into the rock.

“Don't,” Merlin whispered. “Don't...” His voice thinned into some reedy whine, and then he was silent. Arthur yelled, words failing him as he outright writhed beneath the creatures' hands. Their claws dug through his clothes, into his skin.

Oddly enough, the lead vampire paused what it was doing and hissed at the others. The hiss was louder than the others', wetter. Throatier? And the wrinkled things actually cowed to it and loosened their grips.

_I'll cooperate. Don't touch him._

Arthur shouted unintelligibly, his mind yipping around itself. “Merlin, don't you dare do this to me!”

Merlin's breath turned wet suddenly, and Arthur heard the death throes of many a good man in that sound. “Stop! That's enough!”

“Nearly,” the creature said, breathing against Merlin's neck. Merlin's eyes had closed all over again, and Arthur's gut dropped, even as his heart choked his throat. Merlin's lips were blue again. And the thing dipped back in.

“Stop! You're killing him! He went willingly, you – have you not the slightest bit of...” But it was a foolish question; of course this abomination had no honor. “I'll kill you,” he swore then. Because it was the only thing he could do. He was useless. Now, when his most vital friend was losing his last thread of life, he could do nothing but watch. Merlin never should have stayed with him. He should have told Merlin he'd known about his magic. He should have rid Camelot of his father's laws. He should have... should have... “If it's the very last thing I do, I will kill you for what you have done this night.”

He would have thought the burn in his eyes and throat would have ruined his message, but somehow it enhanced it. There was nothing left but his sincerity.

It licked almost lovingly at the wound it made and dropped Merlin to the ground. Arthur squirmed, but this time, the creatures actually let him go. It was in him to rage against the monster, to take up arms against the thing. But Merlin didn't move, and Arthur dropped to his knees in front of the vampire and pulled his manservant into his lap.

His skin was even whiter than earlier, as white as fog or mist. And his lips were very, very blue. “Breathe, Merlin,” he said, and held Merlin's face in his hands.

As always, his manservant did not do as he was told.

“Merlin. You are not allowed to do this. You _idiot_ , what did you even think you were doing? They can't hurt me.” It would be against their orders. Yet the idiot had gone to the leader anyway, of his own free will, to assure his king's safety. The self-sacrificing _fool_. “Breathe!”

He tapped Merlin's cheek lightly and tried to think. He was no doctor, but he at least knew the basics of medical aid. There had to be a way to get a man to breathe once he stopped. He could feel, beneath his fingertips, Merlin's heart thrum against his chest. It was weak, and the beats were unsteady, but it was there. It was there. And that meant Merlin was alive.

Air. Perhaps his chest still hurt, and the weakness in him left him unable to find the strength to draw his own breath?

With nothing more than that to go on, Arthur lifted Merlin's head in his lap and pressed his lips to Merlin's.

It felt nothing like any kiss he'd ever bestowed before. Not only because the lips were of a man's – they were still soft, and plush, and even pliant. But the docility – the stillness. Merlin did not react. He did not fight, or freeze. He did not crush himself to Arthur's chest. He did not pull Arthur down. He did not open his lips. Instead, feeling like he was betraying the man, he forced Merlin's lips open himself and gushed out a breath of air.

He did not know if what he was doing would work. All he could think was that, if Merlin would not breathe, then Arthur would do it for him.

He leaned back up, conscious of the monsters watching him as if he was playing a part in some dramatic play. Merlin's chest did not move. He dipped down and tried again, watching to make sure Merlin's chest rose and fell with his exhalation. It did.

There was hope.

He did it again, and again, as the creatures watched. He kept one trembling hand over Merlin's chest, feeling out the heartbeats, measuring the rise and fall of his chest. His body was chalk-white, his lips chilled to the touch. Arthur's breath was all that seemed to warm them. "Merlin," he whispered, and tried once more. And then again. His lungs burned. His head spun.

Merlin sucked in a long, wheezing gasp, turned on his side, and coughed. His body spasmed beneath Arthur's hands. His lips were still unnaturally blue.

Each breath came in a rasp, Merlin's shoulders shuddering as he struggled. Arthur held him on his side, aware, after this night, of how heavy a person's body was. He might have been imagining it, but he thought Merlin might have been breathing a little easier. He tried to coach Merlin through it, tried to comfort him. He ended up just rubbing his back and repeating, "it's all right," over and over and over again.

Slowly, Merlin opened those gorgeous blue eyes.

Merlin winced, the dim light from the cave more than the darkness behind the neckerchief, the darkness of the afterlife. Arthur shaded his gaze, his heart in his throat as he saw the blossoming bruises up close once more. Now that Merlin breathed again, he was able to focus on more. The neckerchief, which he carefully fixed around that abused, bruised neck, covering the newest marks. Merlin shivered at the touch, but oddly enough, the monsters didn't move to stop him.

He looked up, around. The creatures around them all looked to the ceiling, then toward the door of their cage. Arthur knelt before Merlin as the leader walked up to them. It smiled. "Morning has come."

It was time to meet the sorcerers. To go to the castle, under their guard, and give them the money and titles they'd demanded. He pulled his teeth back. "I'm not leaving without Merlin."

The beasts looked behind him with hungry eyes. He glared at them. He still had his dagger. It would be no defense against these creatures, but now that Merlin's life wasn't hanging by a thread, it was his last chance.

"I'm coming," Merlin rasped. Arthur felt him try to move.

"Merlin, for once in your life, do as I say and stay where you are. You're in no shape to be doing much of anything."

But of course, Merlin had made his own decision, and Arthur was left with nothing to do but work with him. He shielded Merlin's body as best he could as the wretched, wrinkled forms of the malnourished things came to them. He reached for his dagger.

The creatures attacked. He had little time to do more than pull out his blade and raise it before they were grabbing him. He wrenched his arm free, stabbed deeply into one of the creatures' shoulders. It hissed wildly and fell back. The other two grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind him. Merlin gasped. But though the creatures held him fast, they seemed wary of putting undue pressure on him. He remembered the leader's warning from before and glared at it.

This had to be why Merlin had willingly moved toward that thing. Why he'd allowed it to take his blood. He knew the thing had spoken to Merlin, even in front of him. Twice. Before that, while he'd been gone, they could have had a full conversation, and he would be unaware of it.

That stupid, foolish, loyal idiot. Arthur would have his hide.

The creatures lifted him up, pulling on his arms to force him to stand straight. Merlin struggled to lift himself to his elbows, his entire body wracked. Arthur wasn't surprised to see him collapse, his wrecked arms no longer able to hold any weight. He saw a swirl of gold in those eyes, and then a horrible moan. The leader took a deep breath and shuddered. It was almost sexual.

Its eyes shone gold. Horrible, horrible gold.

 _No_. It couldn't be.

He yanked against the creatures' hold, his grip on the dagger still tight. It needed to be killed. What would happen to Merlin if it wasn't? What had happened to Merlin already?

"Bring him," the leader ordered the injured vampire, pointing to Merlin. "Use his body to conceal your injury."

The injured thing did as bade, lifting Merlin and throwing him over its shoulder like a sack of flour. Merlin moaned at the movement, then deeper, as the weight of his body pulled at the torn muscles of his arms, the weakness of his chest returning. Arthur's mind froze at the thought of what it might mean for Merlin's lungs. His heart.

The leader came up to him, all smiles in the face of his fury. "I will kill you for what you've done," Arthur said again. It simply grinned and plucked the dagger from his hand. He twisted in the creatures' hold as the leader lifted the blade to Arthur's chest. Breaking its promise? Of course it would. It was a monster. It had fed from his people, drunk from his friend. Merlin lay near death thanks to it.

The leader bent and slipped the knife back into its sheath. Then it stood and opened the door, letting its wrinkled brethren lead the way back to the sorcerers' room.

He allowed himself to be marched forward, even picked up the pace when he heard Merlin's quick, thready breaths turn choppy once more. Despite not being trussed up or otherwise held down, Merlin made no show of resistance. There was nothing left in him.

By the time they reached the entrance, Arthur's heart pounded a sick beat in his chest. His body shivered with anticipation, with the need to fight. And the leader had given him the opportunity to do so.

One of the monsters leading him forward left him to open the door. He bent to grab his dagger again, but it grabbed him before he could. He saw the one carrying Merlin drop Merlin carelessly to the ground, letting him bounce. Merlin barely managed a moan. Arthur pulled and yanked, snarling, but did little more than wrench his own shoulder. Blood spread slowly against the sleeve of his shirt, and once more, those monsters' eyes were on him. Still, they didn't snack.

The last thing he saw, before he entered, was the leader bending down to speak with Merlin. The young demon didn't enter with his more haggard brethren as they pulled Arthur inside.

The sorcerers awaited them as they entered the chambers, the men and women separated into couples, and he realized for the first time that they might actually be together as more than just a group of magic-users. One of the men, the older, chubbier one, lifted his head. "You will allow us and our retinue to follow you to your castle."

Retinue. Obviously, he was talking about the creatures that had tormented Merlin all night. He gritted his teeth. Giving these people honors in Camelot was out of the question. They could not be allowed such trappings, or else others would try the same. Worse, they could do irreparable harm to his people. But Merlin was nearly dead already, and if he said no and they ordered their beasts to force him?

He opened his mouth to agree.

The lead monster rushed through the room in a whirl of wind and ripped the leader's arm off his shoulder.

The man screamed. Arthur lurched back, the adrenaline in him rising to a crescendo. One of the creatures howled, a primal sound that made something in Arthur quake. It released him and ran for another of the humans. He pulled himself free of the other's grip and grabbed his dagger.

"Stop them!" the taller woman screamed, raising her hand in front of her as if to ward off the attacking demons. "Do not let me be harmed!"

The monsters fell as one on the screaming man. The shorter, robed woman made the same plea, ordered none of the beasts to attack her. The leader walked up to her. Arthur saw her eyes widen, her jaw drop. "Where did you get that blood?" she asked. The creature didn't bother to respond. It simply lifted her hand, pulled the ring off her finger, and through her to one of its brethren, who howled its own scream of victory. It bent its head and feasted.

"No! Aislynn! _Færblæd wawe!_ " A blast of wind raged from the taller woman's hand, pushing back all monsters but the leader, who merely bent his legs and leaned into the force. His eyes glittered as he looked upon the woman. She retreated another step.

Arthur backed away, covered his mouth and turned. He didn't know whether to try to save these sorcerers or not. They had brought this end upon themselves when they'd enslaved these creatures to do their bidding. Yet these were still people. Still human beings. And these monsters they'd enslaved were little better than them.

Still, his focus had to be on his own. He ran back to Merlin. "Merlin. Say you're all right."

Merlin's eyelids fluttered, but they didn't open. Arthur felt his head and found a bump on the back from his latest fall. No blood, however. That was good. Merlin couldn't afford to lose a drop more. "Merlin, answer me!"

Merlin groaned. It was feeble. He still didn't open his eyes. Arthur's heart jumped to his throat. Fearing the worst, he touched Merlin's chest again. He breathed, but too quickly, too shallowly. His heartbeat felt like a bird's wings against his palm. "We have to get you out of here." He looked toward the entrance of the cave. Getting out would mean passing the room where the screams were getting worse and worse.

Leaving would mean letting these creatures live, setting them loose among his people. He couldn't do it.

"Merlin, listen to me. I need you. A dagger alone won't be enough." Merlin seemed to try to groan again, but all that he released was a slightly heavier gust of air. His fingertips trembled. They were blue. "Merlin. Come on, now."

"Arthur?"

"That's right!" His heart soared at the sound of that voice, breathy as it was. "That's right, it's me. Do you remember where we are?"

Merlin twitched, then moaned. This time, it was loud. Loud enough to pierce the cries from inside the room. "Hurts."

"I know." A part of him, the warrior, wanted to tell Merlin to worry about that later, to focus on the battle now. But he couldn't. Merlin hardly looked alive, and he'd been tortured. More than anything, Arthur wanted him to rest. "I know it hurts, Merlin, but if we don't look alive, then neither of us will be for much longer."

Merlin's brows furrowed. The shaking in his body got worse. "Die?"

"Yes, Merlin. We'll both die."

Merlin's eyes snapped open at that. "No! He promised..."

A crash sounded from behind them, back from inside the room. Arthur heard another shout, saw a bright blaze of fire. Something screamed, an unnatural sound, like the air itself was being rent in half. Arthur flinched, moving instinctively to turn to the sound, his dagger up to ward off an attack, his other arm spread out to better shield his injured manservant.

Nothing came at them. He waited five, ten heartbeats, then dared a look past the cave wall.

The younger, taller woman was still alive. The other had fallen, the shawl covering her head draping down to the floor as one of the wrinkled vampires feasted on her. Even as he watched, its skin turned smooth, the mottled gray turning young and tanned. The old man's arm still lay in the middle of the room, but his body, now bent beneath the body of a different, third young monster, no longer spurted blood from its wound. The younger man ran away from the leader, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle, his lips trembling as he shouted something strange in that magical language. Frost cracked across the stone floor. The leader dodged just before shards of ice sprang from the ground.

Only two of the monsters were actually fighting, and one was the 'weaker' version. That one seemed almost burned, half its face showing bone. Still it attacked as if it felt nothing. Maybe it didn't.

"'rthur?"

He didn't turn to Merlin, no matter how much he wished to. As long as the idiot was able to speak, he was at least alive. "Stay down, Merlin."

"What's..."

The two sorcerers were separated, the man on the left, the woman on the right. Unsurprisingly, even with the advantage of having the faster vampires in a restricted space, they were flagging. The woman barely managed to dodge the wrinkled monster's attack. It managed to catch her on her lower arm, its fingers clenching down on her fingers and ripping. With a shriek, the digits tore her hand clear off entirely. She fell back with a scream, clutching her wrist and stumbling on her own feet. The only reason she escaped the next swipe was because she fell. The creature took the chance to lick at the flowing blood from its claws.

"No! Diane!" The man ducked around the leader, trying to get to her. He spotted Arthur and ran to him, instead. "I still have my ring, even if my arm's broken, and I order you to do as I command! Stop the other vampires from getting to Diane or me!" The man's ring glowed with his eyes.

The leading vampire stopped in its tracks and turned its head.

Arthur recoiled as it turned around and looked at its own ally. The last wrinkled vampire stared at its leader, its eyes wide, its teeth bared. Its snarl was one of a trapped animal.

Before Arthur knew what he was doing, he was stepping in front of the leader.

The leader made to move around him. A part of him was surprised. The rest once again began to understand. It may have been ordered to not harm him, and perhaps Arthur would have been willing to blame that, but he also remembered the leader hissing at its fellows earlier in the cell. Apparently, though it was a monster who had nearly killed his friend, it had made a promise with Merlin, and it had been willing to keep it. Arthur moved to stab the leader, raising his dagger to aim at its shoulder. If he managed to hit the leader's shoulder, the vamire could go for its other arm. Together, they might have a chance to stop the demon.

The old vampire hissed and jumped away.

Wonderful.

The leader dodged around him so quickly he couldn't see more than a blur. If Arthur had thought these creatures fast before, it was nothing compared to what they were now. The wrinkled vampire backed away from the woman entirely, its hands up in a show of surrender. The leader bristled and growled, but it stopped its advance. The old vampire managed to gain a few more feet between them.

The male sorcerer panted. The woman picked up her ring and quickly ran to his side. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice too shrill to be a whisper.

"Can't." His teeth were gritted. "It's too strong."

She looked out to the vampires, the other young ones dropping their meals and watching the tableau. Arthur was positive they were ready to go for their tormentors the instant they were given an opportunity.

The woman slipped her ring back onto her finger, to the rising sound of the vampires' fury. She gritted her teeth, as well. Her eyes flickered bright gold. "Kill the vampires not under our control," she said.

One of the now-younger vampires roared.

"Help it kill them," the man ordered, his teeth gritted even worse than before. Even from where Arthur stood, he could see the beads of sweat forming on the man's brow. The leader snarled so loudly Arthur thought it bestial. He shivered.

He moved to try to stop them again when he heard a horrible scraping from behind him. He knew what it was. His heart nearly stopped.

He turned to see Merlin sitting on the ground, pushing himself with his feet, his arms useless against his sides. He gazed blearily around, his focus returning, moment after moment, to Arthur's face. Arthur moved to stop him, heedless, for the moment, of the war occurring before him. Merlin's lips seemed even bluer now than they been when he hadn't been breathing. They matched the color of his eyes. He looked like a ghost.

Merlin stopped scraping himself forward once he could see within. His shallow breaths hitched. "What–"

"Stay _back, Mer_ lin!" he hissed, though his gaze was drawn to the sounds of resumed battle. The sorcerers were bent over each other, the man's one unbroken arm wrapped around the woman – Diane. They were inching their way toward the entrance, skirting around the animalistic, jagged sounds of battle.

"What are they doing?" Merlin croaked. "They're tearing each other apart."

"They don't have a choice," Arthur said, and carefully repositioned himself to defend his idiot manservant on the off chance something went flying toward them. His bigger concern, however, was the two sorcerers. Injured though they may be, he knew very well they would pose a threat, even with their energies focused on the creatures – the vampires. Every time he and his men had taken on a sorcerer, it had always been with Merlin by his side. He was certain every victory – and, without Merlin, every loss – was no coincidence.

Merlin's gaze strayed to the rings. Arthur wondered if he could see something, sense something, that he couldn't. Or perhaps Merlin actually remembered Arthur telling him about them.

"They're being controlled," Arthur said, in case Merlin had forgotten in his pain. Just as he spoke, the woman looked up at them.

She glared at them. "King Arthur. You did this!" She held out her one good hand. " _Færblæd, áblæw!_ "

_"Scildan!"_

Of course Arthur heard it, though Merlin tried so hard to stay quiet it made something in him hurt. Something, something almost shimmering, formed before him to take the blast she'd aimed at him. She glared to his side – toward Merlin – while he stupidly watched the gust of air pound harmlessly against Merlin's magical shield. How foolish they'd both been, to not let Merlin use such a spell in the open, where it would do the most good.

"Merlin," he said, and watched the deathly pale man flinch as if struck, "if you have anything to release those vampire monsters from their control, focus on that!" He held out his dagger and balanced himself on his toes.

Merlin made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. It nearly sent him into a round of coughing that Arthur was certain Merlin wouldn't come back from. The two sorcerers' attention had fallen to his friend, however, so he had no time to worry about it. With a shout, he ran.

The sorcerers lifted their chins at his attack; he was at an even larger disadvantage than usual; with only his dagger as a weapon, he needed to get exceedingly close to his opponents. With two of them, and both able to use long-range attacks, they could easily overpower him in any straightforward assault.

So he ducked down, rolled, and hid behind the battling bodies of the creatures. One of them nearly stepped on him, but the creature that did quickly stepped aside – either following the old orders of the sorcerers or the old orders of their leader.

The sorceress threw out the same spell again, anyway; Arthur used the chance to roll out again, get his aim. She turned to him and let her spell fall.

It was the opening he'd been waiting for.

His dagger wasn't made to be thrown, but it would do.

It missed its target, hitting the woman lower in her gut than he'd intended. Still, she dropped to the ground, pulling the male down with her. He cried out in pain as he landed on his bad arm. The male sorcerer shouted again, cringing into a ball on the floor even as the woman gasped and held the hilt of Arthur's dagger. Her gaze slowly rose to Arthur. Her lips pulled back.

If not for his knowledge of Merlin's magic, if not for having silently watched the man use said magic in battles over and over again, he might have missed how Merlin took the opportunity to do... something.

The lead vampire turned, suddenly, and leaped onto Diane. She screamed, shortly, then went silent. The vampire wrenched the ring from her finger and threw it away. The battle between the monsters halted abruptly. As one, they turned to the last sorcerer.

"No. No. Stop them! Protect me!" But though the man's eyes flared bright gold, the leader simply threw the woman away and turned to him. "No! _Ástryce!_ "

It was over. Though the sorcerer' spell hit the vampire across its chest, it also seemed to break the last flimsy amount of control he had over the beast. It fell on him, as well, its brethren doing the same with the other corpses.

Arthur turned away, unable to watch the carnage, and looked back at Merlin.

His eyes were closed. He wasn't moving.

He ran back to Merlin, slamming to the floor and sliding on his knees to the man's side. Merlin did not open his eyes at Arthur's approach. He didn't move at all. Arthur felt for the man's heartbeat, then stared, barely breathing himself, as he waited for the slightest sign of a breath. When it came, it came unsteadily, with a sound similar to that of a burning building as it gave its last breath and fell to the ground. Arthur might have made some sound in response.

Apparently, his moan of distress was enough to gain the attention of the feasting monsters.

He stood and placed himself between Merlin and them, though he was now without a weapon. The leader held out one hand. The others, now as young and handsome – one beautiful, having taken on the form of a young woman – as the first, pulled away from their food, but kept a steady watch on them. "Lift his legs," the leader said.

Arthur bared his teeth at the thing. "I won't do anything you say. I won't let you touch him again."

He stood no chance against them. They'd taken minimal injuries against their opponents, and they were even more powerful now than they'd been when they'd been grotesque.

The leader rushed past him. Arthur turned on him, sliding his legs to turn faster. He landed a single blow on the vampire's jaw before its allies grabbed him up. He howled, his body acting on training instinct, elbowing one of the creatures in the face, pulling the other's foot out from under it. He snapped one monster's jaw up and a punch, its teeth clicking together so hard he could hear it even as he raced back to Merlin's side.

The leader, however, wasn't leaning over Merlin's neck to get his last sip of the man's blood. Instead he stood by Merlin's legs, one hand lifting his feet while the other checked his pulse. Arthur moved to grab the beast and drag him away from Merlin, only for one of the vampires to grab his arm. He turned on it.

"Leave them, king. We mean no more harm to your servant."

"Horse shit!" The vampire grinned at the expletive. "You've nearly killed him!"

"And you saved us, anyway." The vampire looked him in the eye. "Your honor does you credit."

He wrenched against the vampire's grip, but it clenched down tightly enough for his bones to grind together. Even if he was willing to risk breaking his arm, he wasn't certain it would make his situation any better.

"Prae, get whatever clothes are least soiled. Lirana, let go of the human only when he has calmed down." One of the other vampires retreated back into the room at its leader's command. The female vampire inched closer to him. She'd turned from a gray-skinned, wrinkled creature into something almost too beautiful to be human. "King." Arthur turned back to the leader. "We have experience saving human lives from just this illness. We will save him, if you do not stop us."

Arthur's snarled. "Save him? You did this to him!"

"Yes. And if we had not, we would still be prisoners and you would be handing your country to those humans." The leader pointed its chin toward the room where four bodies cooled. "I made a vow to this one to ensure you were not harmed. As we are now also in your debt, we would return your favor." The demon's eyes glittered. "Do you wish for something other than this one's life?"

His heart hitched in his chest. He couldn't breathe. Wordlessly, he shook his head. No. Nothing was more important than Merlin's life.

"That is what I thought." The thing smiled grimly, kind enough to not put its unnatural teeth on display. It ran a finger over Merlin's mouth. Arthur nearly boiled. He only realized he was yanking on the female vampire's hold when he realized his arm was throbbing with every quick pound of his heart. The thing noted his fury and grinned, but at least it held its hand over Merlin's mouth to gauge his breathing instead of continuing to fondle Merlin.

The vampire named Prae returned, the tall woman's cloak and the old woman's shawl in his hands. As Arthur watched, the creature ripped off the bloody end of the shawl and tore at the soaked sleeve of the cloak. It covered Merlin in the relatively clean portion of the cloth and lay his head back on the shawl. Arthur curled his fists, ready to damn the consequences the moment their actions toward Merlin took a turn.

Time slowed to a crawl. Arthur couldn't say how much of it passed; Merlin's breaths were too quick, too shaky, for him to be able to count by them, and his own hissed unevenly as he waited for the moment the creatures would cave in to their bloodlust and attempt to feast once more. The leader kept Merlin's feet upright, though they seemed to become paler and paler with the effort. Slowly, after so long Arthur could smell the rot beginning to grow from the bodies within the room, Merlin's breathing got quieter, until each inhale was mostly silent, though each still seemed a bit quick, a bit shallow. The female, Lirana, finally loosened her grip on Arthur's arm. He looked around to find the two vampires guarding the exit to the cave. They'd returned to the room at one point; Arthur could only think they'd done so to drink what they could from the corpses, since they both now looked about as young as the leader himself.

The first sign of life came after Lirana had finally let go of him. He rushed to Merlin's side the instant the man's fingers started twitching. He grabbed them up, close enough now to see Merlin's eyelids fluttering ever so slightly with each breath. He glared up at the leader. "Why do this now? What do you intend after this?"

"Fear not, king. There are not enough magic-users left in your country to make it worth staying in." The beast's tone, however, made it clear that it considered this more a sign of Camelot's inferiority than anything else. "We were forced here after a hunt, then caught by those wretches living in squalor in this cave."

"You are beasts," he said, and saw the first true sign of fury directed at him.

"We are different. And unlike you, we needn't kill our victims."

Arthur let the creature see just how well that lie worked on him. Merlin's fingers twitched within his own. He squeezed, hoping the fool would feel it somehow.

"What happened to your–" the creature looked at their linked hands, and suddenly its brows were lowering, its lips twitching, "– _servant_ is unfortunate. But he had magic, and the strength of it gave me the strength to break free of the sorcerers' control. A sip does nothing but make a human sleep in." But somehow, it no longer seemed angry about Arthur's accusation. "We will leave your country and return to our lives. We will not kill you or him, but if you attempt to stop us, it may be much, much more difficult for you to get him back to your people in time to ensure he does not lose a limb."

Arthur pulled away, his body tensing. "Is that a threat?"

"Merely a statement of fact. You humans do not take well to losing too much blood, even if you survive. Most sorcerers heal faster than those without magic, but that does not mean he is out of danger. If we must injure you to ensure our escape? I wonder how long it would take you to get him somewhere safe. And those poor villagers." This time, the vampire happily flashed its canines when it grinned.

These creatures could not go loose. Though he'd found the actions of the sorcerers dishonorable, he did not consider these creatures trustworthy.

But Merlin was indeed looking better, and they hadn't chosen to drink the life from them, though it would make leaving this place simple. They wouldn't have needed to worry about being chased or caught.

And more than anything, Arthur wanted to get Merlin to Gaius.

He ground his teeth together. "You may leave. But hear this," he added before the creature could do more than stand. He glared up at it. "You have until dawn tomorrow to be out of my kingdom. If you are not, I will have you hunted down. And if I ever hear of a death without blood, or of abductions like those you have put my people through here, whether it be in my own kingdom or another's, I will hunt you all down like dogs. And next we meet, we will know how to defeat you."

"I do not doubt it," the thing said, the creature's tone marking its skepticism more than its belief in his words. But it ushered its people away, and Arthur began to think he and Merlin might actually be safe. The thing dared wave as it made for the cave entrance, jauntily tossing a ring of keys onto the ground behind it. "Remember to keep his legs up," it called. Arthur didn't look away from that retreating back until it, and the echo of the monsters' footsteps, were both long gone.

Then he turned to Merlin. "Hold on," he whispered. Then he grabbed the keys and raced to the back of the cave.

* * *

 Merlin woke to a cacophony of sound.

Something jostled what he was laying on, and a million aches and pains erupted into a furnace of pain. He cried out, his voice garbled, his throat horribly dry. The noise around him stopped.

"Merlin!"

He tried to open his eyes, only to have the gunk in them practically glue them shut. He tried to raise his arm to clear them and groaned again, this time louder. Both arms felt like they'd been lanced through at the shoulders.

"Merlin! Don't try to move. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

Arthur. Merlin remembered Arthur running into the battle between the vampires and the sorcerers, throwing himself heedlessly into danger. With a scream, he forced himself up, nearly toppling over his rickety bed as he did. Someone grabbed his shoulders to steady him, and the lances dug deep into his bones. He screamed again.

"I'm sorry! What–?"

"Let go of him, you floppy-haired idiot! Merlin, lie down. It's all right. The men have finally found us; we're about ten stades away from Camelot."

Merlin swiveled around, searching for a sign of Arthur, only for the man to enter his line of sight on his own. Merlin nearly collapsed back into the bed. No, not a bed. It swung a bit, made little wood-like, cracking sounds. A gurney. And he was upside down on it?

Arthur bent a bit further to keep their gazes locked on each other. "How are you feeling? Can you feel your legs? Arms?"

Feel them? He wished he couldn't. He opened his mouth to respond and froze. There was more. More that happened than just Arthur rushing out. Merlin had shielded his king. Right before the man's eyes. He hadn't been able to think, to move, to act fast enough to come up with some other way to protect him. And he'd done more, pulled on the magic the vampire had sucked from him, had yanked on it hard enough to pass out. He'd been able to touch that magic of his lying dormant within the leader's body, just like he'd thought he could. And since he could, he chose to use it to force the creature to ignore the orders it had been given. And Arthur... had Arthur ordered him to initiate his magic? Had that actually happened? And the time before, when he'd still been hanging suspended in the cave. Had that somehow also happened? Had that not been a hallucination after all?

He stared at his king. What was the man going to do?

"Elyan, share your water flask with Leon. Leon, give yours to Merlin. Gwaine. Percival. Grab the gurney. My arms feel like they're about to fall off. Merlin, for once, do as you're told and stay the hell where you are." Arthur leaned in close, close enough that the man's face blurred in front of him. "Don't ever scare me like that again." The man placed a gentle, trembling hand on his chest. "You understand me?"

Arthur wasn't going to bring it up? There was no way he couldn't have noticed!

He nodded.

"Good. And from now on, use your damn magic _before_ we nearly get killed by a bunch of vampires, would you?"

Merlin's jaw dropped.

"Wait – what do you mean, magic?" Gwaine asked. "Merlin has magic?"

Arthur smirked. "Oh? You didn't know?"

Gwaine spluttered. Merlin spluttered. Arthur just kept on grinning. "I'll make certain you can practice safely in the walls of Camelot," the king added, just to enjoy the blubbering look on Merlin's face.

"I..." Merlin's jaw worked, but nothing actually came out. Finally, he fell limp, his body shaking from the tension he'd placed it in. "Thank you," he murmured.

Arthur shot him a look that must have been intended to look harsh, perhaps a bit haughty. Instead it was nothing but fond. "You can thank me by staying on the gurney and getting better, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin smiled. An odd, fluttering feeling broke free in his chest. "Yes, sire." The fluttering feeling only grew as they made their slow journey back toward Camelot.


End file.
